


Bloom

by starryeyedhomicide



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley is a pining bastard, M/M, crowley has like an anxiety attack kinda?? he just panics a lot over shit, he loves his plants, im bad @ tags shh, oh uh angst also, same honestly, they get drunk and shit goes down, this took forever to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 08:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedhomicide/pseuds/starryeyedhomicide
Summary: Crowley thought he had been secretive enough about his houseplants. Aziraphale hadn’t ever been to his flat, and he had never mentioned them. His plants were safe, secret and personal - and as much as he’d like to show off about his wide range of greenery, he knew that he couldn’t. Demons weren’t supposed to have hobbies, and his plants were his only outlet of grief. Like Aziraphale, they’d been with him through thick and thin, even if they technically didn’t have a choice and he definitely treated Aziraphale a lot better. But revealing his secret would mean sharing with the angel, and that? That was dangerous territory.A demon loves his plants and also an angel.





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelheartbeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/gifts).

> ok so i came back to this after like a month so sorry if the writing styles jump around a bit  
written originally for @angelheartbeat but after a while it was just me writin but im still giving it to him bc i love him  
good luck for my shitty writing lmao

Crowley thought he had been secretive enough about his houseplants. Aziraphale hadn’t ever been to his flat, and he had never mentioned them. His plants were safe, secret and personal - and as much as he’d like to show off about his wide range of greenery, he knew that he couldn’t. Demons weren’t supposed to have hobbies, and his plants were his only outlet of grief. Like Aziraphale, they’d been with him through thick and thin, even if they technically didn’t have a choice and he definitely treated Aziraphale a lot better. But revealing his secret would mean sharing with the angel, and that? That was dangerous territory. When you’re opening up, who knows what could slip out. A love confession, or two, or 6000- but he wasn’t going through that right now. Not again.

When he got a call from the angel asking to go to a flower market together after lunch, his heart beat fast completely involuntarily. He hadn’t really bothered with his heart until that point - apart from those moments of softness when he felt love for his friend, and even then he’d frantically beaten back the emotion into a dark corner of his mind. Angels were not allowed to love demons, and he doubted demons were even allowed to love at all - so he stomped those feelings down with snakeskin shoes until they could no longer bubble up and spill out . 

But, the thought of going out with Aziraphale together was enough to make his day - six thousand years and he still loved their little dates. Only they weren’t dates, no, not at all, only platonic feelings and no denied romantic ones. Definitely not. He knew people thought they were a couple because of him calling Aziraphale ‘angel’ and their obvious closeness, and while it made him feel all warm and pink about the thought of them being together, he hated himself for taking advantage of their relationship. Sure, it didn’t cause any harm, but he always felt guilty when it came to Aziraphale. Guilt or love. Or anger. But the last one not so much. Aziraphale was so genuinely kind, and even if he was a bit of a bastard he really did care for Crowley, so he could never stay mad at him for long. Anyway, at the rate his heart was beating, he felt like he’d run a mile, so he angrily told it to quiet down in his chest and it obeyed, somewhat reluctantly. Pros of being a demon, he figured.

He stepped outside and glared into the midday sun, squinting behind his sunglasses. He liked the hot, being a snake and all - his cold blood still ran true - but this was excessive. The plants had been tempted to wilt in the heat but he wasn’t going to let them anytime soon. He wondered if the flowers in the market would be as thriving as his, and felt somewhat smug as he realised they could never survive his standards. He’d never admit it, but he took pride in his houseplants, even if he wasn’t nice to them.

They met at a little cafe just around the street from Aziraphale’s bookshop. He was already there when Crowley arrived, and beamed at the sight of him. Crowley’s heart jumped again, and he had to calm himself once more. Six thousand years and Aziraphale still looked at him like he hung the moon. He didn’t hang the moon, but he did create the odd constellation or two, though, so.. close enough. They dined on cake and pastries - maybe not a healthy lunch, but at this point, neither of them cared. Crowley didn’t eat much, preferring instead some bitter coffee, but when Aziraphale wasn’t looking (or pretending not to from the knowing glance he gave Crowley after), he did sneak a bite or two of apple pie. He almost laughed at the irony. They talked about nothing, as they usually did, but at the same time it was everything, because it was simply.. them. Aziraphale and Crowley and all of history before them and all the history yet to come, just them against the world. Together.

Crowley had been perusing this train of thought whilst Aziraphale was talking, and even though the angel couldn’t see his eyes, he knew they were vacant.

“My dear, have you heard a word I just said? The bees are ever so important but no one gives them any thought.” Aziraphale’s slightly annoyed tone snapped Crowley back.

“Oh, uh, sorry angel, was thinking about.. the flower market.” A good, safe topic, steering away rapidly. Aziraphale noticed this, but ignored it, instead giving him a side glance that meant he was a bit miffed but didn’t mind too much. Crowley’s guilt sank in his chest like a brick in a lake.

“Yes, the flower market! I do hope there’ll be some bees there, they should be out in this lovely weather. You’re finished? Alright then, let’s get a wiggle on.” Crowley scrunched his nose in a confused but fond way, because it was a weird thing to say, but Aziraphale said it, so it was okay.

They walked to the flower market, almost brushing shoulders but not quite, walking in a comfortable silence that only they could understand. They practically invented comfortable silence - the millennia of friendship tended to do that. Even if both parties had been wanting more than friendship for a good century or five... 

On arriving, Aziraphale immediately took off, weaving through the sights, smells and stalls, attracted by bright colours and friendly people; and Crowley just watched him, smiling. He realised quickly that this was not a thing that friends do, so flushed and bent down to mutter threatening words to some petunias. Aziraphale glanced round and spotted Crowley, whom he’d left far behind in his wandering, and rushed back in embarrassment.

“So sorry, dear, I got rather distracted! There’s so many wonderful plants here. Now, if you’ll come with me, there’s some roses that I think are-“ he stopped abruptly. He’d grabbed Crowley’s hand and was about to drag him towards the stand. He’d held Crowley’s hand. He snatched his arms into his chest, blinked rapidly and took a step back, colour rising to his cheeks.

“A-anyway, you simply, ah, must have a look... I’ll just be over there...” he pointed vaguely in a direction and speedwalked towards the nearest stand, suddenly very interested in some succulents. Crowley looked around, gaping, his face flushed and his mind racing, and caught the eye of the shopkeeper. She grinned knowingly at him, and he felt some anger at her. What did she know? She didn’t know them! She didn’t know that he was helplessly head over heels for his best friend! She didn’t know that Aziraphale’s small action had sparked a complicated tangle of emotions, and impulses, and memories, and all that history, and how dare she assume that he- ...oh. 

Was it that obvious? Still peeved, he stalked away, leaving the shopkeeper to tend to her plants with a small smile. Young love, she thought, was not limited to the youth.

They ended up by the rose stall, through awkwardly shuffling and avoiding eye contact. Aziraphale started to speak, clearly wanting to change the subject, and Crowley felt that heavy guilt again, even though he’d done nothing wrong.

“Yes, ah, just look at these flowers! I think they’re peach roses? They’re quite da-“

“Cherry parfait.”

“What?”

“They’re- they’re called Cherry Parfait. They’re a type of two-tone red rose.” Crowley hadn’t even realised he was talking and closed his mouth quickly.

“Crowley, how do you know that?”

_ Shit. Shit shit shit think of something FAST- “ _ A.. friend.. gave a bunch to me recently..” he trailed off, not fooling anyone. Especially Aziraphale, who could always see right through him. Besides, they both knew they were each other’s only friend, and they were okay with that - but now was not the time. A curious smile crept onto his face, and Crowley immediately felt threatened, backing into a bushel of Light Pinks. The roses in question were white at the center, fading to a crimson at the petals; a pretty gradient that seemed to suit them perfectly.

“This is about your plants, isn’t it?”  _ wHAT THE FU- _

“Yes, I’ve known for some time about your botany, dear, but I thought it was just a hobby, and you never mentioned it so I didn’t say anything. Oh, I’m so glad there’s something you’re properly interested in! I’d love to come see them sometime, perhaps after we buy some seeds. Perhaps you can help me spruce up the bookshop…” Aziraphale walked away, a slight air of smugness around him, and Crowley was left in the dust.

Oh, no. This was awful. Crowley had experienced dread before but never like this. He pitied humans, because now his heart was in his lungs and his entire body tense and oh Lo- Sata- someone help him. He’d been exposed and suddenly it felt like all his plants were dead, their leaves cracked and dry. His throat burned. Plants were his thing; Aziraphale had books and Crowley had his plants but they were a secret. Not so secret after all. They were where he went to feel some semblance to control, where he could be the boss and make the rules. He could play God, and he’d be a better one than Her because his plants didn’t turn out failures like he was. He’d hated Falling, failing, being a demon - he’d never meant any of it to happen - so when he got the chance to be in command he took it. He disciplined them so harshly because he felt he deserved punishment - the plants were a form of release, even therapy. 

And Aziraphale knew? The shame washed over him in waves, because he had definitely drunk-ranted at them more than once how pining and the opposite sides were so very bad but Aziraphale was so very good. There was no way he could know about that, but Crowley’s dread still froze him. Was he overreacting? He was sure he was overreacting.

This entire experience lasted on average about half a minute.

Shaking off his emotions like water off a raincoat, he followed along, feeling cold in the mid-June sun. It was certainly raining inside him, the dramatic fool. Busying himself with examining some herbs, he felt a presence behind him, radiating concern. “What’s wro-“ a hand was laid gently on his shoulder and Crowley jumped, turning to face him with wide yellow eyes behind his sunglasses. It was just a touch, he told himself, calm down. It doesn’t mean anything. Aziraphale’s face was close to his, his hands withdrawn sharply and brows furrowed.

“Crowley, what’s the matter? Are you alright? Did they send you a message? Oh no, if they’ve found out we-“ 

“Angel, it’s.. it’s fine. I just feel a bit sick. Probably from drinking my coffee too fast!” He joked nervously. Demons didn’t get sick - well, they could actually, but Aziraphale didn’t know that. He didn’t want to worry his angel - no, not his angel, the angel. Stupid. He couldn’t let him worry because if he started to worry he’d be locked away for days with his books drowning in pages and paranoia, and that was the last thing Crowley wanted.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. If Downstairs contacted him, he knew Crowley wouldn’t hesitate to tell him, so.. it must have been nothing. He still doubted it, but Crowley looked very uncomfortable and a bit pale, so he let it go. Backing off, he smoothed down his coat and suggested they go back to his bookshop. Crowley took the offer gratefully, and strode out of there as fast as his long legs would take him. Aziraphale watched his retreating figure with appreciative eyes, but caught himself in the act and shuddered in self-discipline, jogging after his tall demon. The shopkeeper closed her knowing eyes, having seen the whole fiasco, and shook her head gently. She’d had more than her fair share of oblivious couples visiting her store. Sighing and packing her boxes, she said a quiet prayer to anyone up there that they’d turn out okay. The Almighty heard her, but stayed silent, instead letting it play out as it was. Best to let these things sort themselves out.

Back at the bookshop, Aziraphale made them both cocoa. Crowley noticed he used the mug with wings on that he’d bought him and smiled fondly despite himself. He could tell it was well-worn with use, and was glad (and surprised) his angel enjoyed the present. He was even more surprised when Az produced a black mug with a red handle ending in a point - a devil-esque tail. Steam rose quietly from the top.

“I’d been meaning to give this to you for some time, dear, but I completely forgot. I saw this and thought of you and, well, I wanted to repay you for the lovely mug you gave me. Here!” He handed it to Crowley with a subtle pink in his cheeks. 

He hadn’t actually bought it; he’d taken a normal mug and made some.. adjustments, but Crowley wasn’t to know that.

Through the night, cocoa turned into wine seamlessly, and neither of them minded or noticed. Things slipped into the soft drunken haze as they always did after a late lunch, and mindless talk dissolved into subtle argument.

“It should be illegal, angel!”

“Absolutely not, I should be able to en-enjoy KitKats as I please!” Aziraphale said indignantly.

“You’re supposed to break them first! That’s why they- that’s why they’re split in two! What’d be the point of a double biscuit if you’re not supposed to snap the fingers?”

“Oh dear, don’t talk about snapping fingers!”

“That’s wHAT THE BISCUITS ARE CALLED!” 

“Ah. Nev.. never mind..” he stared into his drink and chuckled quietly, and Crowley’s heart swelled. He frantically quietened it, terrified that the angel would hear the thrumming heartbeat and put two and two together and realise but reject him and they'd never talk again and-

Aziraphale did not hear the beating. He was thinking about KitKats.

They went on, and Crowley noticed they were slurring their words, particularly Aziraphale. He was flushed, giggling and honest, and while Crowley loved that, he was more concerned with the well-being of his friend (and the killer hangovers that would hit them if they fell asleep from the wine.) He was about to suggest sobering up when the angel interrupted his train of thought. 

“You know - know, my dear, it’s such a shame.”

“W-what’s a shame? What are you on about now?” He said with fond but wary annoyance. When he complained about things, Aziraphale seemed to enjoy it - maybe because it was indulging in a part of him that didn’t love everything ever created. It was tough being an all-loving creature sometimes, especially when politicians existed.

“I was say-saying, it’s a shame that you don’t love me.” Aziraphale murmured absentmindedly, gazing into his drink again.

Crowley flinched. His entire body went rigid. His mouth was dry and his limbs had been drenched in ice water. He could feel his pulse in every part of his body, his heart louder than ever, a jet engine roaring at full volume and speed. Emotions were raging through his head like a stampede, crashing his thoughts into the sides of his mind, stumbling over each other, and  _ what in the fuck did he just say _ ?  _ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck???  _ He dropped his glass, wine seeping dark red over the carpet. It looked like blood. Was it blood? Was he bleeding? He felt like he was going to discorporate messily at any second.

“Oh Crowley! You’ve gone and made a mess.” Aziraphale tutted, unaffected by the life-changing words he’d just uttered. “No matter, I’ll fetch a kitchen towel.” He went to stand up and in a fit of shock Crowley had grabbed his arm, using it to pull himself upwards and Aziraphale towards him. 

“Aziraphale, what the fuck did you just say?” He blinked and took a step back, and Crowley immediately realised he hadn’t meant to be so sudden. Though that didn’t stop him from sighing in disbelief and running his hands through his hair, sunglasses on the floor. His cat-like pupils had never been smaller.

“Well, I- I said that you don’t love me. Crowley, dear, you’re a demon. Demons don’t love. I so wish you did though, because I love you very much.” Aziraphale’s tone was matter-of-fact but still sheepish, like he was admitting to stealing a seed packet from the market. But this was much worse than petty theft, this was a crime, this was illegal, and right now all Crowley could hear was the blood rushing through his ears and their breathing. He was drunk as hell, but felt more sober than ever.

He took a small step back and tried to rearrange his thoughts into something that made sense. Carefully, he picked up words from the clutter of his mind and pushed them gently towards the angel.

“Aziraphale,” he said, “of course I love you.”

It was now Aziraphale’s turn to step back and gasp. He bumped into the sofa but barely registered it, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“You-? You l-love me? But, but demons can’t feel love? I- I thought you didn’t-... what?” Crowley smiled softly.

“I’m not at all competent at my job, remember? I guess feelings was one of the few things I didn’t lose in the Fall.”

Aziraphale shook, his cheeks red and eyes downcast. They both stood at award angles, neither of them really knowing what to do with themselves. They were like two streetlights in the snow - the weather was heavy, and they stood on opposite sides, but in the end, they were on the same road, shining brightly.

“How.. How long?”

“Well..” Crowley hesitated. This was embarrassing. 

“Since, uh, well, Eden.”

“What?!” Aziraphale’s head jerked up and stared at him.

“But that was when we first met? You- you’ve loved me all this time?”

He nodded, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes. Now this was something the demon had tried to forget. Ever since their first conversation he developed a crush, which turned into pining, and soon he’d snowballed into full-blown love by at least 5th century BC. His heart started now started the same journey, but a lot faster and was now overflowing with love. He couldn’t help smiling.

“Right. Wow. Well.. okay. What do we do now?” Aziraphale’s hands didn’t know what to do with themselves. Crowley paused and considered the possible options, breath alight. The angel’s nervous voice interrupted his thoughts.

“We.. we.. kiss? That’s what humans do, right?” Crowley jumped, and he was just forming the words “I wouldn’t protest at all-“ when suddenly Aziraphale’s mouth was on his. His eyes flew open and he almost stepped back, and Aziraphale pulled away, eyes filled with fear.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just-“

“Shut up” said Crowley, and kissed him. 

Soft hands found their way onto his face as he kissed his angel like the world was ending. It nearly did, and he figured this was their reward. They kissed softly but with passion, and he felt like he was going to discorporate with giddiness. He was kissing Aziraphale! He was kissing the love of his life!

About bloody time.

Pulling away gasping, he blushed and wiped his mouth. Aziraphale was dazed, lips red and flushed with joy, but caught Crowley’s eye and started giggling. And they laughed. They laughed so hard it hurt. They laughed at their own stupidity and pining for all those years, and they laughed because they were very drunk. But they laughed with happiness, because they were in love. 

Sobering up, they spent the rest of the night unraveling their feelings and confessing moments when they’d almost broken. Crowley was surprised to find Aziraphale first came to face his feelings in 1940 in the church. He hadn’t meant it as a romantic gesture, but the way his angel looked at him like he was the prettiest thing in the world made his heart skip. He didn't have to quiet it anymore.

They kissed and shared stories long into the night, and when dawn came Crowley bid his goodbyes and headed home, promising he’d show Aziraphale his plants soon enough. He would have loved to have stayed, but there were still knots in the relationship they needed to untangle - like what would happen next. Neither of them knew, but they were just happy with each other.

Home at last, Crowley walked quietly into his plant room. Gazing around at the proof that he could care, he smiled.

“Thank you.” He didn’t need to tell them what happened, they could tell.

“This does not mean you’re let off, though! Just because I’m soft for Aziraphale does not mean I’ll be soft on you. I’m expecting flowers by tomorrow.” The threat was half hearted, and they knew, but he didn’t care, he was too high on happiness and drunk on love.

Weeks passed, and the bookshop steadily grew greener. Flowers bloomed in pots as sunlight streamed throuch the windows, and there was the odd cactus here or there on a bookshelf. The rare customers noticed this, and when asked, Aziraphale would blush and say

“Ah, that’s my husband for you. He’s wonderful with plants.”, gently petting a snake curled in his lap.

**Author's Note:**

> IM SO SHIT AT ENDINGS LMAOOO IM SORRY  
HOO BOY was that a doozy.. im so bad @ writing pls don’t kill me also why do I use heart metaphors n stuff so much?? bc I’m a sappy bastard that’s why sfgjkl  
when i said crowley was a dramatic fool I meant dramatic bitch but didnt wanna ruin the fic fhdjk  
uh yeah gray this is for u hope u liked it and uhh ily yeah  
find me on tumblr @starryeyedhomicide !!❤️ lov yall


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